The Benefactor
by Awasteofbytes
Summary: Scott McCall meets the Benefactor.


**The Benefactor**

As soon as Scott McCall inserted his key into the lock of his front door, he knew someone was in the house who didn't belong there. It wasn't the scratches on the lock he noticed that alarmed him, but the unknown scent of an awful eau de cologne he smelled. Whoever had decided to trespass into the house of an Alpha werewolf had a terrible taste in aftershave.

The stench became worse as Scott opened to door and it led him to the kitchen. At the kitchen table sat a man. Scott had seen some strange things in his short life on Earth, but this man was certainly a great addition to the list of strange things that had appeared in Scott's life far too quickly. He was tall, very tall, easily seven feet. He wore a brown, worn-down suit and an equally worn-down hat. He had a silver pin in the shape of a wolf's head on his black tie. His long, thin fingers were woven into one large mess of fingers in front of him. His face looked unhealthily lean, as if he has been ill and lost a lot of weight recently. His hawk-like nose and small eyes give him a stern look and his thin lips didn't seem made for smiling. Nevertheless the corners of his mouth wrinkled up in something that was clearly a grin when he saw Scott standing in the door opening.

"Mr McCall, I wondered when you would come home. A busy day at the animal clinic?" he inquired.

"How did you get into my house?" Scott countered the question.

But it was in fact more an instinctive response to the intrusion. He had already gathered from the marks on the door lock that this man was at least a lock picker.

"Shouldn't your first question be who I am?" asked the stranger.

"I know who you are. Dr Deaton already warned me that you might show up," Scott responded, the hostility in his voice being evident.

"Ah, yes, good old doctor Alan Deaton. Surely he failed to mention his med school training was financed by my predecessor?"

Scott hesitated. Deaton had indeed failed to mention that. The intruded went on.

"I am mainly known under the nick name 'the Benefactor'. Do you know why they call me the Benefactor, Scott?"

"Because you bribe people," snapped Scott.

"I do have certain funds to my disposal which I can freely use to support individuals relevant to the Organisation's interests," the man paused, "I wouldn't call it a bribe, but financial support."

"Call it whatever you want, I'm not interested," Scott snarled.

"But you haven't even heard my proposition. All I want is a talk and if you don't like what I have to offer I'll get up and leave," the man said.

Scott considered it. He was pretty sure this man wasn't a werewolf – that damned eau de cologne – and he could easily take him, but if he just bore with him a little longer he would leave on his own. Scott preferred the civilised solution to violence. Without a word he sat down at his own kitchen table and continued to give this unwelcome visitor and angry stare.

"Good," nodded the man, "I assume Alan has been rather selective in mentioning what activities the Organisation is involved in."

"He didn't fail to mention that you use us for murder," Scott muttered.

"I'm afraid I can't deny there is a branch specialised in elimination of threats to our interests and those of our associates, but rest assured that's only a small branch. Our protective branch, however, is much bigger in size. Our main activity is provided safety that other organisations can't provide."

"Safety? As in…?" Scott interrupted with a sceptical look on his face.

"Transportation of extremely valuable goods, body guards. I believe you met Kincaid?" the tall stranger replied.

"The Japanese mobster's henchman?" Scott reacted, surprised.

"Mr Katashi's business was…mostly legitimate, but yes."

"I don't want to work for some criminal, or for you," Scott said in a definitive tone.

The man known as the Benefactor spread out his long arms in surprise, what made him look a lot like an eagle.

"But you have not even heard my offer yet!" he exclaimed.

"Get to the point, then," Scott said, unfriendly. With a little luck he could get this over with before his mother got home.

"What do you want to be when you grow up, Scott?" the unwelcome guest asked.

"What?" replied Scott, taken aback by the sudden change in the course of the conversation.

"Do you want to be a veterinarian, like Alan? Or a nurse, like your mother? A doctor maybe? Provided that you get your grades up."

"I…I don't really know," said Scott, still recovering from the abrupt change in topic.

"Have you ever thought about how you want to finance your education, Scott?"

Scott shrugged his shoulders. "A grant, maybe."

He rather not think about it and he certainly did like to discuss his financial position with this stranger.

"We have a special fund to help youngsters like yourself to get the education which they need," the Benefactor started.

"Why would you help me? What's in it for you?" Scott demanded to know.

"The specialised medical personnel that our Organisation needs is very hard to find. Assuming you indeed will follow your mother's footsteps," replied the Benefactor.

Scott thought about it. College seemed very far away, but he knew damn well that high school would be over soon enough. He knew as well that a grant was the only way he could afford to go to college. He knew how much his mother earned, he knew what college fees could cost. He more or less expected, hoped, that his lacrosse success would make him eligible for a grant.

And then this guy showed up, offering him a grant.

"I don't need an answer now, Scott," the Benefactor said, "think about it, talk about it with your mother. Ask Deaton about the deal he made decades ago," he stood up. He was finally leaving.  
"I'll come back next week Friday. I hope you have made your choice by then."

The Benefactor let himself out without another word. Scott sat still a few minutes before he got up and opened every door and window to get the smell of that horrendous eau de cologne out of the house.


End file.
